


Timeless

by loeysxdaisies



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domovoi - Freeform, I have no excuse for this, Implied Smut, M/M, Satyr, Sirens, Vampires, based loosely loosely on the song hotel California by the ealges, broken baekyeol, incubus, it's a classic, literally anything you can think of, this is kind of out there, would recommend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 17:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loeysxdaisies/pseuds/loeysxdaisies
Summary: "Some dance to remember, some dance to forget."--Hotel California, The Eagles, 1976Chanyeol doesn't remember Baekhyun, and then he does, but he isn't sure if Baekhyun even remembers him at all.





	Timeless

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to write a fantasy au for a while and we're all at least a little bit slutty for vampires (don't EVEN lie). and this song is kind of timeless, and that's the feeling i wanted to create.
> 
> the hotel (which will remain unnamed in the fic bc i'm horrible at naming things) is one of those places that's kind of always been there and has always looked the same and is only known of by those humanoid creatures.
> 
> this is another one of those blob things that took me 4 hours to get yet *another* au out of my system while i plan the next chapter for Benefits (go check it out if you don't know what i'm talking about! #shameless self promo rip)
> 
> so
> 
> i hope this is okay? also it's unread and unedited i just wrote and kept writing and only fixed major grammar and spelling so this is like what a first draft of something i write looks like (i hope it doesn't suck and it's actually good rip)
> 
> please don't destroy me!!!???!!!

_Some dance to remember, some dance to forget_

 

It was raining when the 836-year-old stepped suavely out of his Mercedes Benz, carelessly tossing the keys to the valet with an offhand “don’t scratch it.” He wrapped his trench coat tighter around his body, both to ward off the cold wind and to protect his expensive suit from the rain.

Another valet—a satyr, by the way he rushed forward with steady steps despite the harsh rain—opened an umbrella and escorted the vampire through the rain to the front door.

The vampire was greeted by a domovoi once inside who offered to take his coat, checking him a room in all of half a second, elegantly giving him his skeleton key for his suite and turning to call instructions to the bellboy bringing his luggage in.

“I won’t be staying long.” The new man spoke deeply, and the domovoi startled when he addressed her. “Just the night.”

The vampire used his height to his advantage, quickly glancing over the modernly dated lobby in search of the bar. He found it and immediately turned on his heel, dropping his key in his coat pocket as he passed through the lobby briskly, nodding to the different creatures indifferently if he was greeted but otherwise staying on course.

It had been a long day.

The vampire slid onto an open stool and a siren sidled up to him, her shirt cut low and her eyeliner much too thick to be attractive.

“What can I get for you, _sir?”_ She hummed lowly, and an inkling of _need_ pushed at the corner of his mind. It took the vampire a moment to regain his bearings—the siren was coming on _strong_ , and he was just so _tired_. It would be so easy to just give in— _no_. “Vieux Carré.”

“Good choice.” The siren very obviously checked him out and nodded before turning around and making his drink, swaying her hips more than necessary but successfully keeping the vampire’s attention on her, wearing his defenses down.

She set his drink down with a napkin and bent over, practically throwing her cleavage in the vampire’s face.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” The siren smirked at him and winked, then harmonized casually as she cleaned behind the counter, glancing up at the vampire as she watched him fight a losing battle in his mind.

She _always_ won.

“Leave him alone.” A new voice startled the two out of their stupor, and the siren scoffed but relented, clenching her jaw and angrily wiping down the counter, silent.

A male a few stools down turned his head and glared at the siren who gulped and averted her eyes, mumbling an excuse about being needed in the kitchen and disappearing through the back door.

“Thank you.” The vampire looked upon his savior and smiled. “Normally I can fight them off, but it’s been a long day.”

“Well, you’re _here_ , aren’t you?” The male—an incubus, by his aura—cocked his head and stirred the straw in his drink. “Everyone here has had a long day. The question is, do you have a story?”

“I have plenty.” The vampire turned his whole body in his seat and propped his elbow up on the bar. He studied the incubus carefully—something nicked at the back of his mind. Not a need, like with the siren, but a sort of familiarity. “Are any of them worth telling?”

“Why don’t you tell me one and we’ll find out.” The incubus slid down the couple seats until he was sitting next to the vampire. “What do you say, Mr. Vampire? Got any classic stories from the last century that could entertain little old me for the night?”

The vampire narrowed his eyes and hummed, scanning over the incubus. Unlike himself in his uncomfortably expensive suit, the seducer was wearing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that left almost nothing to the imagination, a tight black shirt and black biker boots. A light brown leather jacket—probably authentic, given incubus’ reputations—matched his dyed hair. The male was pretty as sin, and he would know.

Chanyeol was sin himself.

“I’ll need a sort of payment, you know.” He took a slow drink of his Vieux Carré and was fully aware of the incubus’ eyes on his throat as it extended and he tipped his head back. “My stories don’t come cheap.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” The incubus shot back. “I’m very particular.”

“I’m sure.” Chanyeol hummed and made himself comfortable against the counter. “Let’s see—any specific era you’re looking for? Region? Period? I’ve been all over.”

“I’m sure.” The incubus shot back. He shook his head and shot the vampire an amused look. “You vampires are always so presumptuous.”

“Oh? You’re the one who wants the story.” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow and looked down at the incubus—even though their barstools were the same height the incubus was half a head shorter than him, at least. “Now why would I tell you a story _now_ that you’ve insulted my age?”

“It was an indirect insult.” Something about their bickering seemed so common, so habitual. Chanyeol had started out with the intention of flirting, yet here he was. How did that happen? “You’re so dense.”

“You talk as if you know me.” The incubus froze, his once relaxed posture stiffening and his grip on his glass tightening.

“You’re right.” The incubus pulled out his wallet and thumbed through a few bills, whistling to get the attention of the siren who had returned as he dropped them on the counter. “Have a good night, Mr. Vampire. Perhaps you’ll find someone who’ll want to hear one of your stories.”

“Hey, wait.” Chanyeol stood up and reached for the incubus’ arm—something told him he needed to _follow_. “Wait!”

Chanyeol followed the incubus away from the bar after he dropped a decent bill on the counter—the siren was getting too big of a tip, but Chanyeol had more pressing issues to worry about—and caught his arm at the other side of the makeshift dance floor.

“Did I say something?” Chanyeol furrowed his brows and looked over the incubus when he faced him again, confused and slightly upset at being left like that. Now that they were standing it was obvious that the other male was a head shorter than him, the perfect height for Chanyeol to tuck him under his chin and hug him and— _what the hell?_

“No, no, you didn’t. I have a habit of coming off as an asshole to many people when I lose interest, so sorry, _vampire_.” Baekhyun hissed coldly. Chanyeol blinked a couple timed but didn’t release his arm. Why the hostility?

“Let me re-peak your interest, then.” Chanyeol pulled the incubus close to him and stepped back so they were hovering on the edge of the dancefloor. “Shall we?”

The incubus looked at him strangely for a minute then nodded to himself. “What do I have left to lose?”

That line struck with Chanyeol much deeper than it should have. “I’m Chanyeol.” He said instead.

“I—it’s nice to meet you, _Chanyeol_. _”_ The incubus wrapped his arms around Chanyeol’s waist as they danced and pressed flush to his hips.

“What’s your name?” Chanyeol’s hand wrapped around the back of the incubus’ neck in a possessive gesture—one which Chanyeol wasn’t quite sure where it came from or why it felt so natural.

“Baekhyun.” The incubus purred. The name triggered something in the corner of Chanyeol’s mind. “Byun Baekhyun.”

The vampire hummed and looped the name through his mind as his hand fell away from Baekhyun’s neck and down, thumbing over his exposed collarbone and tracing the line of it under his shirt.

A mark pulsed on the incubus’ collarbone when Chanyeol’s hand grazed over the clothed skin.

 _His_ mark.

All at once, memories came rushing back. Memories of Chanyeol with Baekhyun fifty, a hundred, _two hundred_ years ago. Memories of them in Italy, in Russia, in Korea, and Japan, and England, and Egypt.

And now in America.

Baekhyun was facing away from him, and he failed to notice the vampire’s realization. Chanyeol’s breath hitched—did Baekhyun not remember him? He hadn’t once acted like he knew who Chanyeol was—had he forgotten? Had he forgotten _them?_

The feeling of his mark was so faint that he hadn’t even noticed it, buried underneath years and years of neglect from both him and Baekhyun. The mark was buried so deep that his emotional connection to it had been severed, until just now, and instinctively he’d forgotten. His mind had forced Baekhyun from itself in an attempt to cover the guilt that had nearly drowned Chanyeol that night all those years ago.

“Baekhyun.” Chanyeol tested the name on his tongue. It felt so _right_ —like the missing puzzle piece he had spent the last few centuries searching for. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

“ _You’re_ beautiful.”

Baekhyun smile turned predatory. “I know.”

Baekhyun hesitated for a second—half a second, so short Chanyeol didn’t even notice it—and then cradled both of Chanyeol’s cheeks in his delicate—still, so delicate—hands and tilted his chin up.

“Do you have a room?” Baekhyun asked, one hand dropping to run across Chanyeol’s neck just above the collar of his formal button down.

“Of course.” Chanyeol dropped his chin.

“Take me there?” Baekhyun whispered seductively. His eyes went gold for a moment in a glamour but Chanyeol didn’t need the glamour—he’d always give Baekhyun anything. He’d give Baekhyun _everything._

Seconds later they were kissing heavily and chuckling breathily whenever they’d pull apart, and Baekhyun refused to let up even as Chanyeol struggled to get his key in the old lock—he understood the aesthetic of the place, it was a hotel for _humanoids_ , after all, but keycards and phone scanners really were so much easier. Modern technology was wonderful. Might as well use it, right?

Finally, Chanyeol managed to get the door unlocked, and he growled lowly as he pulled Baekhyun inside. The incubus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that must make you such the bad boy, hm, Mr. Chanyeol the Vampire?”

“Oh, yeah. Gets me _all_ the ladies. Makes it easy to feed, you know.”

“You vampires, always feeding and _joking_ about it. It’s gross.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “You’ve _always_ —” Baekhyun cut off, his eyes wide as he realized his fatal mistake— _too late_.

“You remember me?” Chanyeol asked, breathlessly, his hands cupping Baekhyun’s cheeks and looking into his eyes hopefully.

Baekhyun smiled sadly and wrapped his hand around the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “I wish I didn’t.”

Then he kissed him.

The kiss was messy, and desperate, and wet. Chanyeol was crying—and perhaps Baekhyun was, too. It was hard to tell.

Eventually the pair stumbled over to the bed and fell on top of each other, and Chanyeol had flashes—flashes of this same action fifty, a hundred, two hundred years ago of lustfully undressing Baekhyun from all sorts of different clothes from all sorts of different periods to reveal the same body he was looking at— _worshipping—_ now.

Much like himself, Baekhyun hadn’t aged a day.

How strange.

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol was woken up by the soft sound of cloth running along skin—as a vampire, his ears were more sensitive to sounds in environments he wasn’t used to, and he opened his eyes to spot Baekhyun standing at the foot of the bed, almost silently pulling his jeans up.

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol sat up, already very much awake and glaring at the incubus as he fastened his jeans and squinted through the darkness for his shirt.

“I’m not letting you fuck me over again.” Baekhyun hissed, flipping his shirt right side out. “I’m out.”

“Excuse me?” Chanyeol stood up and easily located his underwear. He’d pulled them on and was standing in front of Baekhyun before the incubus even had his shirt on. “ _I_ fucked you over? How are you even—”

“Alive?” Baekhyun pulled on his jacket and laughed bitterly. “Like you don’t know.”

“I _don’t_.” Chanyeol hissed. The tension in the room fiddled with his senses, and his fangs slid into place automatically.

“You’re an _ass_.” Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol back in a surprising show of strength, strong enough to make Chanyeol fall back and land on the bed. “It was all some sort of _game_ to you, is that right?”

“Baekhyun, what—”

“I was some sort of _claim_ to you, just someone else to bear your mark? And that was it, right? Mark me and then leave?”

Chanyeol was more confused than ever. He could _feel_ the anger and hurt radiating off Baekhyun.

“I should’ve walked out of that bar as soon as I realized it was you.”

“ _No_.” Chanyeol shot off the bed and slammed Baekhyun’s back into the wall, caging him between his arms and bending his head to look the incubus in the eyes. “You explain what you’re talking about right the fuck now.”

“Your _mark_ ,” Baekhyun pulled his collar down and Chanyeol’s mark—white and newly forming from when he’d reclaimed Baekhyun just hours ago in a maddening fit of passion—pulsed once, in tune with Baekhyun’s emotional turmoil. “You made me fucking _immortal_ , just like _you_.” Baekhyun glare was icy. Chanyeol froze. _What?_

“And then—you want to know the best part?” Baekhyun tilted his head up so he was looking Chanyeol in the eyes. “You _left_. I gave myself to you, I gave you _everything_ , I gave everything _up_ , for _you_ , and you left. The next day.”

Every word Baekhyun said was like a shot through Chanyeol’s nonexistent heart. He’d never—he had no _idea_. If he’d known…

“I—”

“Oh, I’m not done yet. You left, and after I woke up alone and spent the morning sobbing and wondering exactly what I’d done wrong I tried to go back home and you know what? They _exiled_ me.” Baekhyun pushed Chanyeol back again and the vampire, numb with everything he was hearing, allowed himself to fall back on the bed again, watching as Baekhyun’s eyes teared up and he ran his hands through his hair—a nervous habit he obviously hadn’t lost in the last hundred years. “Because I came back claimed by a _vampire_. I had _no one_.” Baekhyun broke then, his voice cracked as he sucked in a breath and let out a sob. “And it’s all. Your. Fault.”

Chanyeol looked up at Baekhyun, who was collapsed against the wall and had the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes to stop his tears, with tears of his own.

“I didn’t know the mark made you immortal.”

“The _mark_ didn’t do that to me.” Baekhyun looked at Chanyeol in disbelief. “How do you not _know?_ It’s not the mark—it’s the fact that somehow the Fates made _us_ soulmates, and the bond was solidified when you claimed me. If you’d stayed you would’ve realized—but you didn’t.”

“I experienced…a lapse in judgment.” Chanyeol met Baekhyun’s glare through the light. The sun was just starting to come up. They hadn’t closed the blinds—too preoccupied the previous night to think about it—and the sky outside had the barest pink tinge on the horizon. “I thought that, since you _weren’t_ immortal—”

“But I was.”

“I didn’t know! I thought it would be easier for me to leave before we got too attached to each other.”

“You didn’t want us to be attached to each other?” Baekhyun pushed off the wall and threw his arms out to the side in despair. “You’d already _marked_ me!”

“It was an accident!” Chanyeol stood up. Baekhyun’s face fell.

“Oh, I see.”

“No, _no_ , Baek.” Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun’s arm when he turned towards the door. “No, I wanted to. I did, I promise.”

“But you said—”

“I didn’t want to mark you because I didn’t want you to live out the rest of your life growing old with someone who couldn’t age. I didn’t want to rob you of that.”

“So instead you gave me an eternal life of living _alone?”_ Baekhyun wrenched his arm from Chanyeol’s grip. “Seems fair. Yeah. Good choice.”

“I’m sorry. Baek, please, wait.” Chanyeol cut in front of Baekhyun as he reached for the door handle, taking his hands and kneeling in front of him.

“What are you _doing?_ Get up.” Baekhyun tried to pull his hands back, but vampires were strong, and Chanyeol held tight.

“Listen, Baekhyun, _please_.”

“Leave me _alone_.”

“ _Listen to me_.” Chanyeol took a breath. “I loved you. I _love_ you, I do. If I’d known I never would have left you alone, I swear.”

“But you did.” Baekhyun let out a sob, his cold persona going out the window as his knees gave out, and Chanyeol caught him as he collapsed to the floor. “You _left_ , ‘Yeol. I had _no one_.”

“And I’m so, _so_ sorry.” Chanyeol pulled Baekhyun into his lap and cradled his head against his bare shoulder, ignoring the sharp scratch of Baekhyun’s jeans against his thighs. Baekhyun wound his arms around Chanyeol’s torso and dug his fingers into his back as though anchoring him in place.

“How _dare_ you.” Baekhyun sobbed. “You _fucker_. You absolute bastard. You left me alone for centuries, and I—I was too scared to get close to anyone. I had _no one._ For hundreds of years. My own people pushed me away like I was some—some  _freak."_

Chanyeol felt his heart catch. He had _ruined_ him.

“I couldn’t—I _couldn’t_. Do you have any idea how lonely I’ve been?” Baekhyun’s words weren’t accusatory anymore—he just sounded so resigned, so _sad_. “I thought—you were so convincing.” Baekhyun let out another laugh. “I really thought you cared about me the same way I loved you.”

“I did—I _do_ still love you,” Chanyeol promised, one hand resting on Baekhyun’s cheek to draw him back from his shoulder. His thumb swiped away a tear before it could fall all the way down his cheek. “I do. And I don’t deserve you, not after what I did, but you don’t deserve to be alone, either.”

“You’re right.” Baekhyun sniffled and took a shaky breath. “I don’t.”

“But if you never want to see me again, I understand.”

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Baekhyun looked scandalized. He grabbed Chanyeol’s biceps and squeezed so hard his fingernails imprinted on the unblemished skin. “You’re not leaving me again. I should hate you, but the Fates are bitches, and I still love you so, _so_ much that it hurts.”

Chanyeol kissed Baekhyun then, and, much like the night before, both of their tears mixed on their cheeks as they sat together on the floor and cried. They didn’t move until the sun had risen completely, casting the whole room in a soft orange glow. While Chanyeol had gotten used to sunlight after being alive for so long, he still wasn’t a fan of sitting in direct sunlight wearing so little.

“I need to get up.” Chanyeol glanced out the window and grimaced slightly. Baekhyun stood up on unsteady legs and Chanyeol joined him, walking towards the bathroom to take a shower.

“You know, you’re going to have to make these last couple centuries up to me.” Baekhyun leaned in the open doorway of the bathroom while Chanyeol stepped in the shower, immune to the coldness of the water.

“What do you want?” Chanyeol called, his voice echoing through the small tiled space.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Baekhyun lifted his left hand up and picked at his pinkie nail—a strange habit he’d picked up sometime around the Great Depression.

Chanyeol poked his head out of the shower, steam flowing out of the opening. “Why don’t you join me and I can start now?”

Baekhyun wasted no time shucking his jacket and throwing his clothes in a pile on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> so how bad was it (be HONEST)
> 
> is this even a good au? should i write more? should i quit? should i burn myself alive?
> 
> should baekhyun burn chanyeol alive for being a total SHITHEAD?
> 
> i'm working hard on the next chap of benefits! i just moved into my uni dorm yesterday and started my new job today, but i'm hoping to have something else posted before classes start :)
> 
> thanks for reading!! comments and kudos make me happier than you could ever imagine so feel free to come talk to me!!
> 
> come say hi to me on twitter!! [loeysxdaisies](https://twitter.com/loeysxdaises)
> 
> curious cat for those of you shy little beans (i'd still love hear from you!) [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/loeysxdaisies)


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